


Phantasmagoria

by luna65



Category: Greta Van Fleet (Band)
Genre: Ambiguity, And what is a dream?, Angst and Humor, Band Fic, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative, Original Character(s), POV Multiple, RPF, Recreational Drug Use, Unreliable Narrator, What is real?, gratuitous film geekery, in some ways, psychological thriller-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:15:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna65/pseuds/luna65
Summary: When Josh meets the daughter of a mysterious film legend, he willingly follows her into a world which might pull him away from all he has known and loved.





	1. a random find

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for a few months now, since I began pondering writing about GVF - I really wanted to write something involving Josh's interest in filmmaking and storytelling and also my own interest in so-called "lost" films or films which are obscure enough to have a particular mystique about them (a trope which has been used to sometimes genius effect in stories and novels). This idea has been particularly persistent in my brain, _et voila!_ But thanks definitely go to the video for "When The Curtain Falls," directed by Benjamin Kutsko, as a way into the idea itself. This may turn out to be beyond my actual capabilities as a writer but what the hell. So here is an opening scene or trailer, if you will. Hopefully I can provide something entertaining for you all to enjoy...eventually.

They had been home for two days but felt as if they were still in constant motion, like when sailors spend months at sea and then continue to bob and sway when returning to dry land. Nine months of touring could do that to a person. And of course in all that time Jake hadn’t done _any_ Christmas shopping. So when his brother had tossed various garments at his half-awake half-dressed form as he ingested a peanut butter sandwich in the family kitchen, Sam smirked and was secretly amused by the mild panic Jake was radiating.

An hour later, having traveled to Flint, Jake and Sam stood outside of a place which all four Kiszka siblings were happily familiar with: Totem Books. Dressed in young adult mufti - t-shirts and sweaters with skinny jeans and scuffed-up hiking boots, topped with winter fleece, hair pulled back and tucked into beanies - they blended in perfectly with the stream of casual weekday holiday shoppers, mostly students and retirees. Sam smiled but then threw his brother a puzzled look.

“I love this place. So why did _you_ wanna come here?”

“I read books too, you know.”

“Yeah but, we never go to bookstores if it’s your choice, just sayin.’”

“I wanna get Josh a really cool film book, like, something he doesn’t already have.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “That would be good, sure.”

“And maybe you can find him something too.”

“I already got his present. I got everybody’s presents. I am not stressing on _anything_ , dude.”

“What did you get him? That necklace?”

“Yeah, the squash blossom - from that lady we met in Austin, the one with the dog.”

“That dog was so cool!”

“Anyway, why am **I** here? I was really looking forward to sleeping all day.”

“Because we all know that you’re the one who finds the good shit.”

“Oh...and you finally admit it, huh?”

“Don’t get cocky, kid,” Jake chided in his best Han Solo.

 

Once inside the store’s warm embrace, Jake made his way to the Media section but Sam knew that even the most organized second-hand store was subject to what he referred to as “stock drift,” which meant that everything in a store would revert to chaos eventually. Those who kept on top of this phenomenon would experience only a slight disorganization. He recalled one used bookstore out on the West Coast, located in a house, with absolutely no shelving strategy whatsoever; and he had gamely searched every shelf and display case on the first floor and managed to find a few gems. But the thought of trudging upstairs and spending several more hours doing it again made him tired and thus he gave up mid-hunt, but at least with something to show for his effort. It was the consideration of what one _might_ discover which kept the occupation fascinating and his patience intact.

A pile of books had formed beside Jake, seated cross-legged on the floor in front of a shelving unit and paging through a large hardbound book devoted to Stanley Kubrick with a pensive frown, hair now freed to partially obscure his face.

“Does he have this one?” he called out, waving the red-jacketed book above his head.

Sam stepped over to the aisle for a look. “Nuh-uh, but that’s the real expensive one. Like, over a hundred bucks.”

“Well I can afford it now, anyway.”

“True. But that one’s easy to get. Wait a minute, lemme see if I can find something random.”

“Okay.”

Sam returned to scanning every shelf, waiting for something to jump out at him. You couldn’t rush these things, you had to look at every single spine, every single title. Sometimes you had to think beyond the implications of a title and pull out the book, consider the cover. Albums were like that too, of course, and were usually easier to guess at in terms of their potential coolness factor.

He had come across a couple genre novels which looked promising, one of them called _The Gods Hate Kansas_ , which he was certain Josh and his film geek buddies could adapt into a cinematic classic. As well as a book titled _Darker Than You Think_ , featuring a woman riding some kind of chimerical beast with a _dragon?...python?_ for a tail. They might be legitimate trash or hidden treasure, but either way they looked too interesting to pass up.

“Anything?” Jake inquired.

“Not exactly.”

“What does he have about Tarantino?”

“A few, did you find anything?”

“A couple.”

“Put ‘em in the pile and I’ll look at ‘em.”

Music played softly from speakers placed around the store, some kind of…’80s jazz, maybe? Sam gave up trying to figure it out with that part of his brain which was devoted to such efforts. People moved around them, up and down the aisles, in and out of the store, and Sam enjoyed the luxury of having nowhere in particular to be and nothing to do but look for interesting books for someone he knew would appreciate the thought and effort behind whatever he might find.

Life was exceptionally good _and_ they were home for Christmas.

The prize turned out to be occupying the Biography section and he almost missed it. But something about the title on the spine, the name, caused him to stop and pull it from the shelf, wedged between books on Robert Redford and Jackie Robinson - both entirely cool dudes, Sam reckoned.

 _Phantasmagoria: the radical oeuvre of Alex Rivas_.

It was one of Josh’s favorite words and the accompanying reason was a film from the mid-’90s, residing in that obscure hinterland which people like Luis Buñuel, Maya Deren, and Stan Brakhage had pioneered - names Sam only knew due to the enthusiastic proselytizing of his brother, who had taught his own amateur course in film studies to his siblings over the years.

Josh and his best friend Nick had attended an indie film festival at Saginaw Valley during their senior year of high school, and ever since that night Jake and Sam had to endure Josh’s obsession for a film called _Phantasmagoria_ , which was, in Josh’s words, "about everything, but nothing you can actually, like, articulate in a conscious fashion, you know?"

They had made their own tribute to it earlier in the year, and Josh had hoped that someone out there would notice and respond to it in an interview, or YouTube comment, or encounters with their peers, or conversation with fans after a gig...but it hadn’t happened. Some people said the video for “When The Curtain Falls” made them think of _Zabriskie Point_ or something from one of Jodorowsky’s films, which was totally cool, but not at all what Josh had been after in his long discussions with their director, who had incorporated all the quasi-psychedelic effects in the finished piece, some of them direct quotations of the film’s visual technique.

Ben, a legit Hollywood guy who hadn’t heard of Alex Rivas either. But the important thing was he took Josh seriously, they communicated in the common language of filmmakers.

In the case of an obscure artist, sometimes you desired to hoard the information of their existence, of their work, all to yourself and greedily wallow in those creative treasures. He thought about the first time he listened to an Alice Coltrane record he had found all on his own, feeling like he had discovered a sacred artifact at a yard sale.

“How is _nobody_ talking about this?!” he exclaimed after a couple minutes.

Of course there were those who **did** discuss her magnificence, but not enough for his taste. So he understood Josh’s fervor. His brother really wanted the entire world to understand the genius he perceived in this man’s work, especially as it was obscure and largely unappreciated. But sometimes people just never seemed to get their proper due.

Sam could understand that as well, as the band which was their life galloped at full speed toward the promise of their future potential. Sometimes, you had to _make_ people see what you were about.

 _Wow, a whole book about this guy_ , he thought as he flipped through it. There were a few photos but it was primarily text with chapters covering the man’s life and work. The chapter about the titular film appeared to be the longest, with various screenshots. Not that he, nor his brothers, required the visual reference. _Phantasmagoria_ was a film they all knew very very well, thanks to Josh’s tireless affection for it.

“I found something,” Sam called out to Jake. “And Josh is gonna flip his shit!”

“And that is **exactly** why I brought you!” Jake replied.


	2. art is a ritual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't necessarily think this will be as non-linear as some of my other stories, but here's an example of that, as of course it takes place before the events of the previous chapter.

“I just want you to tell me what you think.”

“Josh, it doesn’t matter what I think - we have to consider the larger context here.”

Somehow Josh knew it was going to come to this: a conversation with Jason, just the two of them in his office, which was - now that he thought of it - more like a lecture.

But he, nor his bandmate brothers, were recalcitrant children in this regard. They didn’t deserve to be lectured to. They weren’t _entirely_ naive. Josh knew there were consequences to making the kind of video they had filmed. But this was _art_. Hell, it was even Art.

“It matters to **me** what you think. Do I matter to you?”

“Of course you do but -”

“Jason, please. What did you think of it?”

“I thought it looked really great. Totally professional quality, gorgeously shot and worth the money you spent on it for sure.”

“And you’re just going to let it go.”

“I know it’s going to seem like I’m talking down to you, but I honestly want to tell you what I think will happen if we release this. It’s going to cause a shitstorm the likes of which you have never seen.”

Josh pulled at his hair, an almost idle gesture of winding a curl around his finger. He bit his lip and blinked, trying to find a way to reply which would be thoughtful and measured.

“I think it’s abundantly clear,” he said, “that we presented this with total reverence to the subject.”

“There’s no absolute anymore for these kinds of things. These days, people say what they feel and they have a worldwide audience when they do. You guys are just too new to have to go through this shit right now.”

Josh looked at Jason, ever fatherly and earnest in his black-framed glasses and salt-and-pepper hair. They knew from the outset that they could trust his vibe _and_ they liked him, when they expected they might not ever like anyone in the business that much.

“Josh, you know there are already so-called pundits out there looking for reasons to dislike you. That’s what the online world is like. The people who know who you are, they’ve _seen_ you. They’ve experienced your passion and your artistry. But that’s still a relatively small number. This is promotion, to introduce you to the world, I know you know that.”

Josh nodded and then gave his boss a look as if to say _please continue_.

“Music videos, they’re still useful in their way. Not the way they were before you guys were even born. But there’s still some really cool things happening. I definitely want you to tap into that, and I know you have great ideas to lend to someone else to make it happen. But I really wish you’d come to me first.”

Josh sat up in the chair. “Okay, first of all, you weren’t paying for it so why would we have done that? Second, you wouldn’t have talked us out of it; you know **that** , right?”

Jason put his hands together and enacted a gracious bow. “Touché, Joshua.”

“I know it’s controversial, but it’s **not** hateful. Can we not endure controversy at all?!”

“It’s not recommended.”

“I mean, it’s controversial to tell people they need to unite in love instead of hate - and we’re definitely saying that.”

“It’s controversial in the sense that you’re suggesting we reside in a culture of hate.”

“We do. Not, like, totally, but yeah we do.”

“But I have two specific charges I can level at this video and I will _absolutely_ assure you that it doesn’t matter what your intention was in making it, you cannot overcome how people will respond to it. It only matters what people feel. That’s how the world works now.”

“So you’re saying these two things are what everybody is gonna think?”

“Most everyone, sure. And you can frame it, you can spin it, you can contextualize it anyway you like, but **it does not matter**.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“One: cultural appropriation. I am well aware vodun is a religion and that is how you’re presenting it. But people of color are going to object to you portraying something you have no real knowledge of or experience with. Two: drug use. You have a lot of young fans and there will be those who will say you’re promoting the use of entheogenic substances to _everyone_. Again, it doesn’t matter if you say it’s just a story, because it’s the four of you, not actors. We’re never meant to infer that you guys are playing characters.”

“We were so careful to be respectful, not lurid. That’s an actual ceremony you’re seeing. And every single person who participated, they didn’t feel exploited or disrespected at all.”

“I get it. I get it, I really do. But no, I can’t handle you guys coming under fire for something like this, not now. It will damage you in the long run. I’m sorry; purely from a business perspective I can’t allow the song to be licensed in this way. But as someone who cares about you, I don’t want you to get hurt. Not you, not _any_ of you.”

“So even if we just wanted to put it up somewhere you wouldn’t allow it.”

“No. I’m sorry Josh, but please believe me when I tell you it’s for the best. Just think about the people who would be hurt by this. I don’t mean anyone who gets offended just to get offended. But I think there will be people who are hurt by any type of portrayal like that, who will feel humiliated, that they’re being reduced to a stereotype. You don’t want to hurt people, I know you don’t.”

“No, of course not.”

“Think about it that way. Look, I’m willing to pay for another video -”

“No. If we can’t do this, and I accept that we _won’t_ do this, then I don’t want to do anything else. But I’ll put it to a vote.” He took out his phone. 

“I’ll have Kali call Aaron -”

“- nah, hang on. " Josh had speed-dialed Jake. “Hey, are you up yet? Is everyone there? Get Ryan to have somebody drive you guys over to Jason’s.”

“Tell them not to take the 101.”

“Jason says stay off 101, though. Yeah, it’s a meeting. And then we can go out for sushi or something, okay? Yeah, alright, hurry up.”

Jason waited until Josh had ended the call to speak again.

“What if they don’t agree? What if they all want to do another video?”

“The thing you may not get about us is that if one of us is unhappy, then _nobody_ is happy. Because that’s how we are.”

“I get that you guys are very very different from any other band I’ve ever worked with, and I respect that.”

“I respect you too, man. I know it seems like I’m being difficult but I respect what you’re saying.”

Jason nodded. It never failed to fascinate him...when he first saw photos of the band he thought what people generally did regarding their age and their attractiveness and how they were desiring to emulate a particular portion of the past because they loved it. But then he met them and understood that they knew who they were, and they knew each other even better. Most bands did not possess that kind of cohesion **ever**. But more importantly Josh was charismatic when you saw him, when you met him, when you were in his presence. He would never claim to be the leader of Greta Van Fleet but he had an undeniable charisma which engendered the kind of desire among those who beheld him to lead them - somewhere, anywhere. Jason was very careful not to appear to favor Josh but he always observed him during a process to see what he was thinking, how he was reacting. Josh had a wild gift, with a kind of gravity to it.

He knew he had to break this bad news to Josh first, for a variety of reasons.

 

 

“Man this sucks!” Danny groused, looking down at his Dragon roll.

“Why did you order it then?” Jake asked from across the table.

“Not the food; but, you know, the video being cancelled.” 

Josh shrugged, chopsticks poised over an order of Spider roll. “The important thing is we made it, and we get it, and we can be proud of it. But not everything you do will be understood. That’s, like, the one of the first rules of creativity.”

“The first being: most of the time, you’re gonna suck,” Sam chimed in.

“But we didn’t suck!” Jake said.

“No, I don’t mean you like _you_ , but just, you know, you as in humanity.”

“I’m still not sure if I like sushi,” Jake said, examining a piece of California roll.

“Dude, you got the most generic thing on the menu!” Sam teased. 

“You don’t have to be fancy if you don’t want to be fancy,” Josh assured him. “If you want to be an uncultured cretin I will support your right to do so. I will mock you and deride you and -”

“Fuckin’ Orson Welles over here, chrissakes!” Jake chided then popped the sushi in his mouth and chewed. “Cold rice, dude, that’s _weird_ ,” he said with his mouth full.

They ate while Josh riffed on said legendary director’s side hustle as a shill for Paul Masson and his impersonation had them all snorting rice out of their noses eventually, which was more or less always the reaction he was aiming for.

 

 

They were in another raucous place when Gian called, but Josh knew he had to talk to him right then.

“Hey dude, hold on, I gotta move someplace quiet.”

He walked out the back door of the bar into an alleyway which looked kind of sketchy, but he made certain not to venture too far afield.

“So Jason called me -”

“Yeah, I’m sorry it wasn’t me but it had to be all official, you know.”

“Yeah I get it.”

“Are you mad?”

“More disappointed than anything. But I get it. Sometimes these things just don’t work out. I wanna tell you something, though.”

“What?”

“We set something in motion. Art is a ritual, any kind of intentional art. And I don’t think this is meant to just _go away_ you know? Think about movies that get lost, and then they get found again. And why? Because they’re meant to be _seen_.”

“Yeah, you could be right about that. But something...something like _what_?”

“I keep dreaming about it. Have you?”

“Yeah, I mean, I dream about a lot of things in one night. My brain is hype like that.”

“See I never dream about my work - which is totally weird, right? But I’ve been dreaming about this over and over.”

Josh heard a beep on the line. “Shit, sorry dude, my battery’s about to die. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah it's okay, just think about what I said.”

Josh ended the call and looked through his texts, responding to a couple before his screen switched off. He sighed in frustration and went back inside. He joined the others at their table where Jake and Sam were arguing about which was the best Freddie King record.

“But have you _heard_ that surf record he did? That thing is sick!”

“Motherfucker, it is _The Texas Cannonball_ and I don’t wanna hear your bullshit!”

Josh took his seat and looked into his beer.

“Who wuzzit?” Jake asked, already beginning to slur. The boy could not drink as much as he _thought_ he could.

“Gian; he’s bummed.”

“Well yeah, _of course_ he is,” Sam replied. “All that work and then -”

“Cancelled!” Danny exclaimed, pounding a fist on the table.

“Calm down Gojira, jeez. But yeah.” Josh drank the remainder and belched. “I don’t think I like this as much as when I started.”

“What, the beer? Order a different one then,” Sam said.

“No, I mean -”

But then, someone recognized them and the thought was lost to the better part of their current occupation. He never asked his bandmates if any of them dreamed of the dream within a dream which comprised the video for “Safari Song” - a vision quest and vodun ceremony which may or may not have actually happened, depending on how you interpreted the narrative. The ambiguity is what mattered most, and as someone who felt ambiguous about any number of things, Josh had an affinity with the searchers and the dreamers...and whatever they had to do to allow themselves to dream wide awake.


	3. the family Bovidae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this chapter title was actually a title I was going to use for a GVF story, although probably not this one. And I still might, some day. Also apologies for the somewhat weird formatting.

“Mom! How old are these Thin Mints?” Sam yelled towards the living room.

“The ones in the freezer?”

“Yeah.”

“Hell, Sammy - I dunno. I think I bought them this year? What’s the expiration date?”

Sam squinted at the green box in his hand. “Hmm,” he murmured and turned it on its’ end to look at the top flap. “It says use or freeze by September 2018.”

“Then they’re fine!”

“Did you freeze them right away?”

“Of course I did! Are you gonna come in here and help me wrap stuff or what?”

“Yeah I’m comin!’”

He shut the freezer door and like in a horror film Jake appeared out of nowhere. Sam started with a gasp.

“Fuck man, don’t do that to me!”

“Mmm cookies!”

Sam handed Jake one of the cellophane-wrapped cylinders within and made a shooing motion. “No peeking, Mom says we’re wrapping your presents now.”

Jack the dog circled around their legs, snuffling and whining and wagging his tail in the hopes of sympathetic consideration.

“Dude,” Sam addressed him, “I’m pretty sure dogs cannot have Girl Scout cookies. I’m doing this for your own good.”

“Give him a dog cookie, man, don’t make him feel rejected!”

“Mom, do we have any dog cookies?”

“No we do not - don’t give Jack any snacks right now, he’s not supposed to get any until after dinner.”

“Dang, boy, Mom’s got you on a diet, huh? Poor buddy,” Jake said, giving him a vigorous scratch on the head.

Sam gave Jake a gentle shove towards the back hallway. “Go on.”

“Sammy!”

“Yeah Mom, the wrapper’s delight is on his way.”

Jake groaned from the hallway and Sam snickered; he lived for corny puns.

 

“Okay, you’ve got that look that says you’re up to something.”

Josh responded with a wide-eyed guileless grinning reaction.

“Whaaaat?”

“Uh-huh. Don’t be ‘tra, my dude.”

Josh tossed his head. “Well I can’t help _that_ , I was born extra.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Be that as it may…”

“When we’re in Tennessee I wanna film something. Something in the woods.”

“Sure. But not that script about the dude who ends up eating his friends, okay? I hate special effects days, they’re too... _sticky_.”

“Nah that’s not a woods story anyway. More like getting lost in the woods -”

“Oh no no no. Every time somebody goes into the woods and _pretends_ they’re lost, they **get** lost.”

Josh laughed. “Little too much vérité in the old _Cinéma vérité_.” 

“I think you should do a family drama about hillbillies. That’s big right now.” 

“You know there’s a limit to how much cooperation I can get out of our elders.” 

“Hey!” Sam called on the other side of the door. “I’m comin’ in!” 

“We’re not decent!” Josh exclaimed. 

“And you never will be,” Sam responded as Jack led the incursion. “What are we doin?’” 

“Joshie’s gonna film when we go to the lodge.” 

Sam folded himself into a corner of Josh’s bed, but even so Jake nudged him with his foot. “Cool; is it gonna be that cannibal thing?” 

Josh threw up his hands. “No! I never really wanted to do that one anyway, it was just a writing experiment.” 

“So what am I getting?” Jake asked and Sam gave him a _Are you kidding me?_ look. 

“Nothin’ good, ‘cause you’re lame.” 

“I’ll tell you,” Josh said, grinning wide. “Fossilized bullmoose shit!” 

Jake pretended to pout. “I wasn’t any worse than usual this year.” 

His brothers nodded. “That **is** true,” Sam affirmed. 

“Hey I just remembered - it’s bratwurst night!” Josh said with much enthusiasm. 

“Oh man, we haven’t had that in forever!” 

“Should I tell Wagner? He’s gonna be mad if he misses Lillian’s strudel.” 

“Just tell ‘im we’ll save him some. I’m sure Lori is, like, grilling him on his shenanigans right now.” 

They all laughed loudly and Josh’s phone chimed. He spun around in his desk chair as he read the text. “Ah, finally! Schooley’s coming tonight, he says.” 

“So we gotta save some strudel for him too,” Sam noted. 

“Tonight? Isn’t it supposed to snow tonight?” Jake asked. 

“So?” 

“Fuckin’ Artic Express or Polar Apocalypse or what-the-fuck ever. Like, a whiteout in the middle of the night is not festive, that’s just fucked-up.” 

“It’s gotta be tonight otherwise we’re leaving without any weed. And I **know** you don’t want that.” 

Jake smirked. “Ya got me there.” 

“It’s not gonna be _that_ bad,” Sam said. “I mean, it’s not like a typical family thing anyway. We **never** have those.” 

“That’s not what that’s for,” Jake said, with a comically annoyed expression. 

Josh’s phone chimed again. “Oh shit, how did we forget we’re supposed to get Ronnie from the airport?!” 

“I thought Dad was getting her since she’s coming in at, like, midnight?” 

“Is he? Shit, who wants to call him?” 

“I will,” Sam replied. “But ask her.” 

“She just said _which one of you losers is coming to get me_ , and she’s getting ready to board.” 

“Dad - hey, are you picking Ronnie up? Yeah, she just texted Josh, she’s in line at the gate. Okay; yeah, we will.” Sam ended the call. “Dad said don’t eat his strudel, he’s gonna stay at work, then go to the airport and get something to eat and wait for her flight.” 

“He better not go too late,” Jake said, getting out his phone and sending a text. He read it aloud to himself as he was typing it. 

_don’t w8 4 food airport closes early_

“Remember that one time we were starving in San Jose and everything was fuckin’ closed?” 

“The worst!” Sam agreed. 

“The holidays, man, it’s crazy!” Josh said, with his usual over-emphasis. “Who knew people traveled this time of year?!” 

“I do not want to, like, get on a plane for a long time.” Sam said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

“Well that’s ain’t happenin,’” Jake retorted. 

“Yeah but that’s, like, vacation. I mean other stuff.” 

“That ain’t happenin,’” his brothers informed him in unison. 

“Shut up! I know we’re right back in it, but let me hang onto my illusions!” 

Josh began singing “Both Sides Now” and his perpetual audience warbled along. Even Jack gave a howl which was only slightly off-key. 

_______________________________

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Danny waved his arms and tried unsuccessfully to clear his hair from his face. “What was the fuckin’ deal with that plant, man?’ 

“Wagner you are sooooo trashed,” Sammy teased, “he already explained the plant.” 

The basement - which looked much the same as when they had last hung out in it over a year ago - was smokey and loud with their raucous conversation and music, and various scents competed for dominance, but they were all too wasted to truly care at that point. 

“But why?” 

“Why not?” Josh replied and helped himself to the bong. “I think he might be onto something. I’m bringing a plant with me on this next tour.” 

“You can’t bring _nothin_ ’ into Australia, man, I’m tellin’ you. Zero tolerance. And you can’t leave with nothin’ either,” Logan informed his friends. 

“I bet people do wanna smuggle, like, koalas and stuff, right?” Jake mused. He had that glazed look of someone who has been into some good vibes, in a manner of speaking. 

Danny finally managed to pull his hair back and continued eating the leftover portion of Lillian’s strudel right out of the casserole dish. “Damn I gotta get this recipe for Mack.” 

They all laughed uproariously at him. 

“What?” 

“You’re such a throwback, dude,” Sam said, sputtering smoke. “Just learn to make it yourself.” 

“It’s too complicated!” 

“I can’t believe they actually pay you knuckleheads to entertain people,” Logan cracked, taking a long drink from his beer. 

“I know, right?” Sam laughed. “I keep thinking we’re gonna get kicked out like they used to do to us.” 

“You darn kids get outta here!” Josh exclaimed, in imitation of the surprised annoyance they used to encounter when bar owners learned they had booked a band whose collective age wouldn’t even allow them to run for President. 

“Hey this is America, anything is possible!” Jake proclaimed. 

“Kicked out of what, dude?” Logan asked Sam. “Like, the music business?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“It’s gonna happen any minute now!” Josh said with comedic panic. 

They heard doors slamming and loud voices above their heads. 

“Hurricane Ronnie has returned,” Jake announced, and they all laughed. 

“Wait a minute,” Sam said, wide-eyed with panic. “Did we save her any strudel?!” 

All eyes turned to Danny, who clutched the baking dish with a fierce possessiveness. “Oh no, you guys said I could eat this!” 

“Oh my god, this is just like that time Mom found you reorganizing our refrigerator at three AM!” Josh exclaimed and all attempts to appear even the slightest bit sober were dashed against the rocks of their collective baked hilarity. 

It was good to be Home. 


	4. "Suddenly, it's ten years later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know why I said this wouldn't be a mosaic narrative, lol. But even as this is the future, I tried my best to make it as realistic to their specific history as I could.

To: grath@filmcommentary.com  
From: klantz@gmail.com  
Re: AR research for Sept issue  
_Grace - here is my preliminary draft of the Kiszka article. You’ll see that Josh does a lot of talking around the question of Ana Rivas and even commenting on his own films, which is strange, especially considering that random photo in NYC I found on Instagram from last year. There’s a lot of debate but for my money that **was** definitely him with Rivas so I have to consider that he was lying to me. A really nice guy, though, quite charming and funny. I tried not to let that get in the way of my interrogation but...well, just read it, okay? Feel like all my research/investigation keeps hitting a lot of dead ends. PS: I know there's a tense shift at the end, but I'm not fixing anything until you tell me whether you'll publish this at all. Call me if you have time. -Kay_

 

Joshua Kiszka, 30, best-known as vocalist and songwriter for the Michigan-born rock band Greta Van Fleet, resides in a suburb of Nashville only minutes from where his twin brother (and the band’s guitarist) Jacob has also settled. When I arrive at his home in mid-afternoon for our interview (as he informs me he doesn’t much like to get up before noon), he greets me with the same engaging smile his fans are long-accustomed to viewing from photographs and performances. Those who sought to dismiss the band early on in their career used to accuse them of smiling too much, but Kiszka’s demeanor is warm, welcoming and entirely genuine. Now that Greta Van Fleet has stepped back somewhat from the spotlight they used to inhabit a decade ago, Josh seems almost relieved to just get on with his life and creative work. He shows me around his sprawling ranch-style house which also includes several areas set up for music and film post-production work.

“Jake and I usually work on demos here,” he tells me as I follow him into his basement recording studio. “And then we meet up with Sam and Danny at Rust Belt to go through our usual process of duking it out, figuring out what makes the cut. It’s a dynamic that really works for us, we are all responsible for what ultimately is recorded, nobody feels excluded or ignored. And then we come back here to record the album.”

The band is now in its’ tenth year of professional status, spending about 4-6 months on the road and releasing a new album about every 18 months. Kiszka prefers life in Nashville to Los Angeles or New York or even his native Michigan for various reasons.

“It’s a city pretty much entirely focused on musicians, so no one particularly stands out, you know? I can go anywhere and it’s, like, people just say: ‘Oh it’s that guy from Greta,’ and you get a nod. I like that. There’s not too much bullshit in Nashville. And I can live close to the wilderness, I need that. We both do.”

The Kiszkas engage in every creative pursuit together, also making films as a team: they co-write and co-produce, Josh directs and Jake composes the scores. In this way they are practicing wholly traditional family values. What is perhaps not entirely traditional is their symbiotic relationship.

“People say a lot of things about twins, and I think some of it is true. My mom used to call it ‘twinpathy’ with us. We’d mirror each other without even noticing. So when we got older we decided that we would create our individuality even as we had similar interests and goals. We both wanted to be creative people and our parents were always supportive of that - and with Sam too.”

He refers to their younger brother Samuel who resides primarily in New York and pursues a side career in jazz when he’s not working with the band. As we move from room to room, shadowed by what could be considered a small pack of dogs, I ask him if Sam ever showed an interest in film and Josh chuckles at the inquiry.

“Sam doesn’t have the patience for the process, but Jake has him come in for scoring work. He lives in that network of musicians up there in upstate New York and he’s pretty busy with all that stuff when we’re not on the road.”

When asked if the brothers (and their life-long friend, drummer Daniel Wagner) feel the need to spend time apart to preserve their musical and social bond, he quickly decries the notion.

“This is family, and it’s family above all else. We would never allow anything to erode our love for each other. I think it’s healthy to have your own life, but family is our life too. I think Danny would live here as well, but his wife’s career is in Los Angeles and so that’s why they’re out there. But she’s family too, we’ve all known her since we were kids. We all talk to each other several times a week, usually, no matter what.”

The band is also known for maintaining the close ties they cultivated in the era of their new-found success, with the same management, production team, and record label as when they were first signed in 2016.

“The people you can trust are the people who’ve always believed in you,” Josh asserts.

I note that the Kiszkas have never created a film within the confines of the Hollywood system.

“And we never will. People say North Carolina isn’t really a film mecca anymore, but that’s bullshit. We’ve made every one of our movies there except for specific location shoots. They have everything I need in Wilmington. And there are production companies here too. But we make relatively small films, so we don’t need a lot. We pride ourselves on doing it small and we make the films **we** want to make.”

When asked if he expected he would ever have parallel careers, Josh shakes his head with a snort.

“I never thought I’d be a musician, or at least not a professional one. I’m very lucky; I mean, we work hard, but at the same time it’s still a dream for us, to walk onstage and bring the audience into that orb of love we create with our music. We’re lucky to have such loyal fans, they’re still there for us and they’re always up for the experience. One day we’re climbing into a van to hit the road for the first time and suddenly it’s ten years later. Where did it all go, you know?”

I ask if the demise of the rock revival movement that they were once labeled as the forerunners of was a disappointment for the band.

“I think we were somewhat disappointed that the kind of rock n’roll we play, the tradition that we participate in, didn’t come back into the mainstream. But that’s not why we were doing it, though I think we hoped that it might catch on again. I think we saw a chance to help it along. But it’s still out there, I think it always will be. Authenticity is something which will always exist, even if you have to dig really deep to find it. That’s what we’re really about: genuine emotion and a philosophy of love and understanding. It’s just us, that’s all there is. Just four guys making music who love it and want to keep it going.”

The Grammy-winning band is known for keeping it old school and thoroughly analog: they don’t record with Pro Tools, their instruments and amplifiers are largely vintage equipment and they keep it simple within their blues-rock idiom as far as effects and techniques. Though they’ve faced industry pressure to change their style over the years, Kiszka states they made a vow from the beginning to remain loyal to their roots.

“Various people told us we would be committing career suicide if we didn’t evolve but we said, ‘Evolve into _what_?’ you know?” He laughed loudly at the notion. “Our music is literally who we are. It contains various things, like the music of those who inspired us. You can explore different styles and things, and work it into what you do. But this is who we are and what we play, and when we signed with Jason (Flom, of Lava Records) we told him that. ‘Don’t try to change us later. If we change, it will be because **we** want to change.’ But I worried about Jakey, because this is his band. Greta is his life, really, the thing he always wanted to do. I said, ‘What if they tell us: you have to do this or we’ll drop you from the label,’ just as a hypothetical, and he said, ‘Then we’ll do it ourselves, fuck it.’ And that’s the level of his commitment to all this, so we just follow along, you know? But no one ever asked any of the original bluesmen to change, so just because we had some popularity that doesn’t mean we have to betray our roots. Success is like Class Five rapids: you’re just moving along and then suddenly shit gets very real very fast and you’d better be ready. Even so, it was still totally surreal.”

The films of the Kiszka brothers make various references to the surreal circumstances of fame, such as _When The Curtain Falls_ , which is both an adaptation of their 2018 song of the same name and an early film project of Josh’s originally titled _Dark is the Night_. A thoroughly sympathetic but unvarnished look at how women are considered disposable by the Hollywood system, it was tonally appropriate for the post-#metoo era; as well as the mockumentary about their own band, _Peace, Love and Unity...even if it kills us_ , which combines behind-the-scenes footage from the studio, on tour, and doing publicity with extremely candid interviews featuring each of them discussing the impact of fame and increased scrutiny on their personal lives. One comes away from a viewing with an appreciation for their upbringing and the way it shaped their personalities and abilities.

But of equal interest to this publication is their film about a director and his enigmatic muse - 2023’s _BeLIEver_ , which Kiszka has long insisted is an allegory of the creative process and not about any specific relationship or circumstance. But there are those who have speculated on social media for years that it’s really about Josh’s relationship with Ana Rivas, the daughter of director Alex Rivas, whose career was brief and relatively obscure, as he disappeared in 1996 while allegedly location scouting in Mexico. Ana Rivas has led a campaign for her father’s work to receive greater coverage and recognition within the realm of film scholarship, but has also maintained a strictly private life, only granting interviews and lectures if they directly pertain to her father’s oeuvre. And it can be said Kiszka maintains a similar boundary - one of the conditions of my interview is that I am not allowed to inquire after his relationship status or anything of that nature.

As we venture onto his back deck to view the sunset, I tell him I’m not here to debate the inspiration behind that particular film but rather to inquire about a film which Ana Rivas is rumored to be working on, a sequel to her father’s 1995 masterwork _Phantasmagoria_. I ask if it’s true that he himself is considered a devotee of that film.

“I do love that film. Like for so many others, it changed my life and the way I looked at things in general. It’s hard to believe it’s already 30 years old. I was privileged to know Ana and be allowed to view some of her own work, which I think carried on in her father’s narrative tradition. But I can’t talk about it, it’s not my place to discuss it because she’s the only one who can contextualize her own work.”

“ _Was_ privileged?” I ask. 

“I haven’t spoken with or seen her in years. But that’s Ana, she has a habit of going underground, so to speak.”

I note that there is a bit of Orpheus and Eurydice in _BeLIEver_ , and he smiles but declines to fully elaborate.

“Who doesn’t want to save someone else with a song, right? I’ll cop to that much, certainly.”

“Do you think you have?” I query.

He sighs and looks off into the woods which abut his property. “I’d like to think I have, but in what way? That’s the real question. It’s so hard to know what people really mean when they tell you how much they love your work. Sometimes it’s only what they think you want to hear.”

The doorbell sounded, the dogs began barking, and moments later Jake Kiszka entered the house. We are introduced and he smiles that same shiny smile as his bandmates, which led me to wonder what was in the Frankenmuth water supply in the late ‘90s to cause their mothers to produce four such equally-attractive individuals.

“Where’s my sister-in-law?” Josh immediately asked, and Jake replied, “It’s her ER on-call week,” a reference to his wife’s residency at TriStar Centennial as a noted Women’s Health specialist.

We spend some time discussing favorite films and also their upcoming project, a thriller set in New Orleans. Jake is excited to incorporate some of the local music into the score, he is particularly a fan of such artists as The Meters and Dr. John.

“We love that bayou funk!” he enthused. “And I think it will suit the mood of what we’re doing.”

At some point in the conversation I made a reference to _Phantasmagoria_ and I noticed that Jake seemed to turn pale at the mention. Josh excused himself to take a phone call and Jake turned to me, his demeanor completely changed from its’ former cordiality.

“Is that why you’re here? To talk about Ana?” he demanded.

I admitted that was the main thrust of my inquiry, but Josh had mostly declined to discuss her or her work.

“We don’t want to discuss her,” he informed me. I make to ask why but he cut me off.

“Don’t make me say it again, please.”

I had no choice but to nod my head and we sat in silence until Josh returned. I thanked him for his time and departed, and as I drove back to my hotel I considered that there’s something more to this story which will likely never be revealed. As twins tend to do, whatever secrets there are will remain strictly between the two of them forever.


End file.
